Beyond jams & jellies at Central Market

Last month my husband and I shopped at Central Market.  There’s only one of its kind in San Antonio, and I hoped to finally find unsweetened carob as a noncaffeine substitute for chocolate.  Glad to say, we found it.  Even better, we approached their tasting area for jams and jellies, and lo and behold, I heard a familiar voice.  It’s a friend we hadn’t seen in many months, and how I loved the surprise of seeing him today!  He lives not too far, and the bus delivers him right in front of the market.  Such fun to talk, but then after probably 20 minutes we parted ways, and I gave him our phone number again, just in case.  Days passed, and weeks passed, and then he called me about something totally different, inquiring as to whether I’d be interested in helping him teach English classes.  He planned for lessons to begin with Bible study in Spanish, then we’d choose particular words from the verses to translate into English, and then we’d add vocabulary to build sentences and practice pronunciation all along the way.  He had recently received requests for English classes, and the whole idea sounded so exciting that I almost forgot to ask the Lord.  So I paused and prayed, not wanting to jump into a new endeavor on my own, and in a few days I called our friend to accept his invitation.  He asked about my husband bringing his guitar for some coritos, and the very next Sunday evening, we loaded our Bibles, the guitar, and our bilingual songsheets, and we’ve been blessed ever since.  Our students have become our new friends.  And how I’m humbled to realize I had nothing to do with creating these sweet circumstances.  All we did was walk into a store, presuming our only purpose was to find unsweetened carob.  Jesus says in John 3:21, “But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what he has done has been done through God.”  Thank you, Lord, for enlightening me this day.

The cupcake lady

Cynicism is contagious.  It’s infectious.  The doubt and distrust become so deeply engrained that we don’t recognize the harm they cause.  But just when you’re convinced the whole world is horrible and that altruism is dead, here comes the cupcake lady.  She quietly sets up shop and exudes this wonderfully inspiring generosity.  My friend met her in the grocery store.  The cupcake lady approached the check-out lane where my friend is a cashier.  She loaded her groceries from the cart, and as my friend scanned each item, the cupcake lady planted a seed.  My friend saw the baking cups and all the cupcake ingredients and inquired as they rode the conveyor belt.  Little did she know she would ever meet the cupcake lady again.  Then came a particularly interesting bus ride.  It happened on another day that my friend and the cupcake lady rode the very same bus at the very same time.  Because cashiers at grocery stores see all kinds of people, some days are quite trying.  Too many instances of people mistreating their children, too many scenarios of people abusing welfare systems, and the list goes on and on.  So to meet the cupcake lady on the bus and realize she made some special cupcakes for a very sweet cashier was quite timely.  Her generosity hit the spot.  Why would the cupcake lady bake cupcakes for a cashier she hardly knew and make an extra trip to the store to deliver them, though she wasn’t sure the cashier would even be working then?  Here the Lord connects the 2 people on the bus, making certain the cupcake lady’s efforts don't go in vain.  How sweet is that!  I loved just hearing the story.  I'm inspired, and I’ve never personally met the cupcake lady.  And so I ask on your behalf for the Lord to send a cupcake lady to your neighborhood.  May the Lord encourage you and protect you from that cynicism to which we're all susceptible.

Cheated by a wife

“Ever since my wife cheated on me . . .”  That’s what this guy said yesterday as he entered the bus.  The guy stepped inside, paid his fare, and finished telling his buddy the story.  He made no attempt to gloss over the fact that life holds pain.  And hearing him talk made me think.  What do we do with our pain?  Even children on a playground don’t like to be cheated.  Somebody overstays their turn on the monkey bars, and the kids in line race off for a teacher to plead their case.  It’s like playing Monopoly and realizing the banker isn’t honest.  We scream, stomp, throw, and pitch fits, but in the end, where are we?  Psalm 68:19 says, “Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior, who daily bears our burdens.”  God actually invites us to lay our burdens upon Him.  Hand our pain to Him, and let Him carry the weight.  Even if my eyes shed buckets of tears in the process, I want to ask Him to cleanse me.  In fact, crying does wonders to soothe tension.  And if a hangnail can nag me into being mad at the cat and grouchy at my husband, then I can afford no room to harbor big pain, small pain, or anything.  Please know, dear reader, how I prayed for you today to find refreshment in knowing Jesus Christ in a new way.  May this Christmas be wonderful because we experience His power to heal.

Impromptu at the breakfast nook

I had been reluctant.  I hadn’t relished the thought of arriving 2 hours early for my husband to rehearse some music.  Where would I go while he was busy?  The hallways were quiet, and our jovial greeter at the side door was absent this day.  I chose to study at the empty breakfast nook, just for something different.  My notes on Matthew 5 fell open onto the table (and I do mean that literally because all the extra papers I’ve tucked into my Bible have left its seams on the verge of explosion), and so I took a moment to rearrange.  As the morning progressed, hallway traffic picked up speed.  From a distance, I saw a friend to whom we usually offer a ride as he’s walking the road from the bus stop.  I called out as he entered the building, “Hey, we looked for you earlier!  Sorry we didn’t get to give you a ride.”  “That’s all right,” he said, and given that this hallway today was different from where we usually see each other, he stopped to ask what I was doing.  I explained about Matthew 5 and about teaching, and he asked, “Are you nervous?”  “No,” I answered, “I love sharing stories of the Lord, and I love our class.”  And from that point of connection, the Lord proceeded to bless the 2 of us with some wonderful conversation.  And it wasn’t just one blessing, for in the process of all our talk, the Lord gave multiple new insights for teaching that day, even supplying the thrill of seeing Him orchestrate the whole encounter.  Our empty breakfast nook had blossomed into hosting 2 hours that were filled to the brim with joy, and I smiled to see how the thought of “something different” that led me to the nook in the first place was far more than casual notion.  What seems impromptu in our minds, the Lord has known all along.

Beaded & buttoned for life

Before I left the house last Wednesday, I was reminded to take a towel to cushion my knees.  I scanned the bedroom shelf for my little orange Gideons Bible and tucked it in my red bag, for it seemed my instruction was to kneel and to read Scripture.  Already in the bag was my usual tube of sunscreen, and I dug around to double-check for a pen, my ID, and my phone.  And now I headed to the car.  My bag sat on the passenger seat for the next 30 minutes, and each time I glanced at it, I smiled to think of my daughter who handed it down to me.  This cloth bag is covered with fun black and white beads and buttons sewn in alternating patterns, and its whole combination of threads and stitched mirrored pieces is just plain sweet.  Wearing this bag today brought a welcomed whimsicality to an occasion that can be quite heavy and serious and literally life-threatening for many, and I welcomed the Lord encouraging me with simple pleasures toward staying the course.  In Romans 14:11, I read that one day every knee in all creation will bow before the Lord, and so there must be worthwhile reason for our kneeling.  This Wednesday, I trusted the Lord had specific reason.  This particular abortion center is surrounded by much activity, including the busyness of cars and buses and interestingly a pediatric clinic, and so I am watchful in the midst of prayer.  While walking, I read from my Bible, finding strength in seeing and hearing the Psalms.  My folded towel proves to be a wonderful cushion for my knees, though eventually I stand to walk again.  Upon kneeling a second time, I notice another lady kneeling to pray.  Later still, I see a third lady kneeling, and I am humbled to realize the Lord’s instruction to me was not for only me.  My role as a kneeling pray-er was playing a small part in a larger chord of pray-ers.  The size of the blessing felt huge yet humbling at the same time.  I pondered for a while that crucial point where obedience serves as a crossroads of blessing beyond ourselves, where its effect ripples outward many times over.  The blessings had been multiplied for me, and I was not even the main focus of the prayer.  The primary intent was to pray for the many who are connected with the abortion center, yet how gracious was the Lord in the way He led me to the sidewalk.  He encouraged me at home in reminding me about the towel and my little Gideons Bible and in showing me the beaded and buttoned bag that makes me smile.

A misfit Pebbles

This old Pebbles doll.  She has a mysterious spot of white paint on her forehead.  Her whole face really could use a good washing.  She’s missing many tufts of her original red hair from having been picked up by that straight-up ponytail she always wore, and the bit of hair she still has would certainly benefit from some patient combing.  Her shirt sleeves are too big.  Her pant legs almost fall off.  You can see she landed in some clothes from another doll who's only vaguely near her same size.  This Pebbles has seen some years and some decades, and she looks a bit disheveled.  Maybe even misfit.  And that’s actually why I love her.  When the Lord first led me to teach high school choir, my music experience had been primarily band and orchestra, and the choir idea didn't seem to be a perfect fit.  When the Lord called me to ride the city buses, I didn’t know how the bus system worked.  When the Lord led my husband and me to study the Bible on Sundays, we were one of the few married couples in a much larger class called Singles.  When the Lord led us to our Spanish congregation, I didn’t speak too much Spanish.  When He called me to write a book, I was not a confident writer.  Somewhere along the way in all these situations, I felt like I didn't fit.  And when He called me to theater a year and a half ago, I arrived at the audition entirely inexperienced, braced for the worst, hopeful for the best, altogether really uncertain of what would happen.  A few hours later, I returned home with two small acting parts and a look of complete shock when giving report to my husband.  But it was actually a good shock.  It was a case of “Oh, wow, this ride is crazy, and actually it’s fun, but I honestly don’t know where this theater thing is going!”  According to Hebrews 2:10, God saw fit to make Jesus perfect through suffering.  Verse 2:14 talks about Jesus sharing in our humanity.  So if Jesus suffered in stepping out to share in people’s lives, and if I aim to follow Jesus, then I too can expect to encounter some suffering.  Whether nervous stomach or mental pressure, it's uncomfortable, and it's suffering nonetheless.  It's circumstances we wouldn't have chosen on our own, all for the greater purposes the Lord lays out.  And so I want to be willing to be uncomfortable.  I want to be willing to feel misfit, for He will at some point supply a joy that leaps the highest hurdle, and therein lies my peace.  He reveals the perfect fit for all us misfits.  Even a painted smile on an old Pebbles doll can remind of the joy the Lord gives.

The book of Job + $1.10

In San Antonio, $1.10 buys a seat on the bus.  Yesterday I wanted to meet my husband close to where he works across town, and then we’d drive together to church.  I paid my $1.10 on the 648, chose a seat near the front, and began reading the book of Job.  Poor Job is having a hard time, and actually that’s a huge understatement because Satan is afflicting him intensely.  I’m reading where Job is losing his livestock, his servants, and his family, and suddenly I hear a man’s voice and look up to acknowledge him taking the seat behind me.  He had recognized my Bible’s columnar pages and smiled to say he enjoyed reading too.  Genesis was the book that really made him think, he said.  He elaborated a bit, and all the while he spoke, my heart was leaping to realize this was no ordinary bus ride.  I was sitting in the midst of the Lord at work.  He was transforming the ordinary into the extraordinary.  As an orchestra conductor might cue the clarinets alongside the violas, the Lord had cued my new neighbor and me to meet on the bus that afternoon.  Only the Lord’s orchestra is exponentially more vast.  He brought joy into the hearts of 2 people who until recently had lived in distant parts of the world.  Yet never is the Lord far from His children, nor is a day with Him ever humdrum.  Especially in those occasions like Job’s when the afflictions of Satan excruciate, we find peace in knowing the Lord is near.

Not a Sunday stage

The big stage doesn’t always attract.  People exit the building dissatisfied.  Some wonder why life feels flat.  They become angry and critical, and soon the whole subject of church has grown sour.  So we ask, “What are we looking for on Sundays?”  Perhaps consider blessings of a different size and shape.  Not all God's gifts are wrapped tall and pretty in the main sanctuary.  Consider the parking lot.  For me it’s been a wonderful place of prayer.  Last Sunday someone new inquired about piano lessons, and the inquiry sent me back to that hot, sweaty day in the parking lot a year ago when multiple people offered prayers on my behalf for this issue of piano lessons.  How I've been blessed to relive those initial prayers.  I stand in amazement to look upon the Lord’s blessings since then.  The parking lot has been a place I’ve found people needing physical help, such as the lady who fell between the street curb and the concrete steps.  Sometimes it’s opportunity to offer someone a ride to the bus stop or invite them to lunch.  Also reconsider maybe an unlikely place—the women’s restroom.  Sometimes the restroom serves as its name implies, as actually a place of rest.  Girls go there to find a tissue when they’re crying.  They go there to see if the crying made their mascara run.  Women go there to regain composure when the antics of their children have tested their last nerve.  Sometimes they’re there because the music is too loud or the seating is too crowded.  Basically there’s something uncomfortable for them, and they’re seeking respite.  It’s opportunity to offer help.  It's opportunity to listen, maybe talk, and see the Lord at work.  The point being that church is more than any single event in a single room on any given day.  The platform at the front of the room is not a stage.  It's not a concert.  Church is people.  We love as the Lord first loved us, and we look to know Him in whatever circumstances He brings.  May He give us joy for opening those packages that deliver to side doors and parking lots.

Spanish — SMTWTFS

When the Lord led me to a Spanish congregation, I had little idea what would lie ahead.  I was curious and excited, though also uncertain, because all those years ago I had dropped out of high school Spanish when we were assigned Lluvia Roja.  I could conjugate verbs and pass vocabulary quizzes, but reading a whole book in Spanish?  No way.  I took one hall pass to the counselor’s office and transferred out.  Yet now with my new congregation, I was facing whole conversations and whole sermons in Spanish, and what would happen?  Would my limited textbook Spanish work at all with the real-life Mexican vocabulary, or the Tex-Mex, or the Puerto Rican?  They had advertised for a guitar player, and soon we changed from our English congregation, bringing my husband to carry his guitar down the hall to the Spanish group.  They were different rooms in the same building.  Different languages with the same purpose.  And I loved it very quickly.  Each week they patiently lent me new words, and even when I asked “¿Cómo se dice…?” for the thousandth time, they flinched not once to translate me yet another word into Spanish.  They spoke some English, yet Spanish was comfortable and close to their heart, as was English for me.  I soon studied the Bible in Spanish on Wednesdays and brought a friend from Puerto Rico.  When a small group on Sundays prayed in Spanish, they graciously allowed me room to pray in English.  I soon found myself singing “Rey de Justicia” during the week at work and realized the Lord was touching my heart deeply.  I experienced over and over the Lord’s presence without my fully knowing the spoken language.  A host of blessings far outweighed my occasions of feeling like I couldn’t learn Spanish fast enough.  Yet still now, in these most recent months, I’ve realized more.  The Lord has positioned me to speak Spanish on the streets when I’ve prayed in front of an abortion center.  He has supplied me words in Spanish for visiting patients in the hospital.  He has given me enough Spanish to welcome Spanish-speakers to our English study group.  He has used my endeavors toward Spanish to inspire the same interest in some of my English-speaking friends who want me to toss them some new Spanish words just for fun.  When I ride the city buses, I can now converse more in both languages.  The two have seemed to mix around in lots of directions.  And only after I asked to announce to the Spanish congregation about 40 Days for Life, did I realize I hadn’t been nervous about formally speaking in Spanish.  All this to say I love how the Lord takes us down unknown roads.  Unknown only to us, that is, though we’re entirely secure in His hands.  He comforts us along the way.  He supplies us—7 days a week—SMTWTFS.  He encourages and enlightens with each step.

A toothbrush, a mattress, & generosity

A young lady rode 2 buses across many miles of our city, from south to north, all for the sake of donating a new toothbrush and a small tube of toothpaste.  She called out from across the parking lot in hope she wasn’t too late to give with the radiothon that would benefit local flood victims.  Another family drove up with a well-used mattress, held in place atop their station wagon by 6 arms stretched up and out the open windows.  Their generous contribution may have left part of the family sleeping on bare floor that night.  Altogether, people donated a truckload of food, thousands of dollars, and over a hundred pints of blood.  It was a wonderful occasion that caused me to check my pulse once again.  How do I give?  Do I dig deep to give wholeheartedly, or do I merely skim off the top?  Is there anything I grip too tightly for myself?  And why did I almost cry to read about the young lady traversing the city on 2 buses?  It’s partly because I’ve ridden our buses, and I know how the different routes can take half-hours and hours to connect, and I love this young lady’s willingness and determination to give. God has these gentle ways of inspiring us—sometimes through written stories, like the one by Sonny Melendrez in Welcome Home that reflected recently on San Antonio's flood days of 1998; sometimes through song lyrics; sometimes through photographs of people we’ll never meet and who have no idea we notice their example.  The last verses of 1 Timothy talk about a generous heart laying up treasure.  I ask the Lord to lead me to be generous.

Not nice & neat

Christianity is not nice and neat.  It’s about people’s lives changing and people realizing their need for Jesus.  Often we have to become pained and uncomfortable in order to see our need.  Take the disruptive child who’s starved for attention and makes his occasions unbearable for everyone.  All you want to do is have your kid nice and neat in church choir, and here’s this thorny scenario causing you to dread one rehearsal to the next. Then take the guy who monopolizes the adult study group, and you catch yourself hoping he’s absent next Sunday.  And you’d been so happy to finally be part of Bible study, until he showed up.  What about the time I’d been reading about generosity in 2 Corinthians 8, and the Lord put beside me on the bus a lady whose wonderful generosity challenged me?  Those words in Corinthians weren’t meant to stay nice and neat on the page.  They’re for real life, and the lady with the salsa was the Lord’s way of opening my eyes and stretching me into action.  Following the Lord certainly keeps us from stirring ourselves some additional problems, but sometimes He Himself has reason to stretch us beyond our comfort.  One time my husband and I taught a kindergarten class with a rambunctious little boy who we thought never listened, yet later his mom told us how carefully he recited at home the details of our Sunday class, well within earshot of a dad who didn’t attend church.  Suddenly we're so happy for the family's sake, and our classroom frustration didn't seem to matter.  Another time I remember listening to KLOVE radio and contemplating a financial donation, asking the Lord to prompt the same idea out of my husband’s mouth if we were supposed to give.  Shortly thereafter we’re in the car when the radio station again mentions their pledge campaign, and my husband says, “Maybe we should donate to KLOVE.”  Sometimes I hold onto money too tightly, but this time I saw the Lord leading, so we found joy in pulling out the checkbook and putting the envelope in the mail.  When the Lord stretches us, it’s the perfect exercise.  Maybe not our idea of nice and neat, maybe causing us to go cross-eyed in pain, maybe for reason we can't see right then, but still perfect.

How far will I go?

Buses present such an attraction for me. I read about an artist who includes buses in her work, and instantly I wanted to attend her exhibit. It’s because the mention of a bus returns me to an amazing time with God. That first bus ride was big. Even initiating the discussion with my husband beforehand required some courage. To put the topic on the table was to give breath to that new idea flitting around in my head. That first step is crucial. Dipping that first toe into uncharted waters. Delving into that first book to learn a new language. Auditioning for a new role that's drama instead of music. Entering a new building to meet an entirely new church. Not every call from the Lord appears in big print on the front page, and how far will I go to find Him? Will I pray faithfully? Will I seek Him through the Bible? Will I let Him set the circumstances or allow impatience to set my own? Will I trust Him to lead in new surroundings, or will I discard the whole notion in fear? Psalm 121 says He will not let our feet slip. Hebrews 11 says He rewards those who diligently seek Him. Your bus may look different from mine, yet each of our roads points to an amazing God. May we encourage each other to seek the Lord and take those first steps. 

Prayers in the parking lot

One friend prayed for me through the open window of our car.  Another friend prayed as we stood in the parking lot.  Still another friend persevered to pray as we dripped in the sweat of 100^o heat.  Suddenly I realized the presence of God.  My brain had been on overload for days and weeks.  Too many ideas tossing around.  I was on the edge of crying and possibly erupting.  “Lord, help me see Your path clearly.  Put my feet in place.”  The where, when, and how of multiple who’s and what’s were all jumbled in my head.  Work, music, Bible study.  Hospitals, shelters, coffeehouses.  Buses, magazines, bookstores, blog, old video, and new video.  Storytelling and speaking, and oboe, piano, and singing.  Current book, new book, and flitting notions of theater.  And none of these things were bad.  They were just all firing at the same time, and it felt frantic.  In the onslaught of ideas, I was too scattered even to decide whether to have turkey or ham for lunch. Very unusually, I had opted out of the sermon that morning in favor of reading the Bible outside, as even amidst the church setting I typically love, I somehow wanted some one-on-one time with God.  I sought the purity of His voice uninterrupted.  I had prayed.  I had asked others to pray.  And now I stood in the midst of blessing.  The Lord had sent comfort in the form of friends.  He enlisted power in the form of prayer—both in English and in Spanish.  I soon also read some of John MacArthur’s Anxious for Nothing, which is unusual because I ordinarily go straight to the Bible, but I assume the Lord had an intermediary in mind this time.  MacArthur pointed me to the Psalms and Hebrews 11, which continues to ease my heart days later with the reminder that God does reward when we earnestly seek Him.  To find calm within a storm is no small feat, and I give thanks.

A quest toward Spanish

God sent me a friend.  Maybe you’re thinking, What’s the big deal?  Doesn’t everybody have friends?  The big deal was the timing.  I sat in my little blue cloth-covered chair at church and felt frustrated by my inability to understand the Spanish language.  Even as recently as the previous week the Lord gave me enough Spanish to converse with a college student at a bus transit center, so certainly I had vivid recollection of how He meets needs, yet somehow this Sunday I still fell victim to frustration.  Temptation took hold, and I was almost in tears.  But hold on a minute because here comes my friend.  I pictured the Lord saying, “Hang on, Linda.  I’m sending help.  I’m sending you a friend with a sweet smile and kindness that overflows.  She’ll guide you in your learning of Spanish, and you’ll even get to sing with her “Dame Tus Ojos,” which I know you’ve wanted to do.”  And what happened was really quite amazing.  As soon as our pastor offered a closing prayer, up the aisle walks my friend.  Yes, I already knew her.  Yes, I would enjoy talking with her any day of the week.  But because my heart did hurt and my brain was on overload, all the more I welcomed this friend’s footsteps in my direction.  I had felt lost in the language that surrounded me, and the Lord sent me a lifeline.  On this day, His timing was impeccable once again.  Hardly did I have the presence of mind to pray, yet how prompt was His rescue.  “Dame Tus Ojos” [Give Me Your Eyes] held new application, as He set my eyes on His provision.

A new idea, but now what?

A new and exciting idea floats through the brain, and we can be eager to use it.  Why wait?  Back in 1995 as I curled up on the sofa to read one of Jack London's many, the Lord gave me an astounding experience that let me know I would do some writing about slavery.  Though intimidated at first, I did want to stay attuned to the idea of writing.  I dabbled around with it a bit.  In 2002, I quit teaching school to allow some concentrated writing time.  In 2010, I published a book, though on a different subject.  All this to say the initial idea to write prompted much prayer over a period of many years.  Yet on a different occasion when God gave me the idea to teach homebound students, I was quickly on the job in less than a month.  It also was many years from the time the idea of jail ministry first caught my interest up to the December afternoon in 2009 when a phone call with a chaplain appeared to formally connect all the dots.  And one idea that’s still in progress is last summer’s notion to make a video to accompany my bus book.  I’ve seen a few puzzle pieces connect, though many questions remain, and I continue to seek the Lord’s guidance.  To jump in and buy a camera and spend hours and days putting a video together doesn’t seem the thing to do, at least not yet.  Sometimes our new idea is God’s preview of what is to come.  In our waiting, He prepares us, maybe connecting us with people in certain circumstances to accomplish His larger purpose.  One aspect of Christian living that absolutely thrills my heart is realizing how one blessing, perhaps one answer to prayer, is really only a portion of a whole set of blessings all delicately and lovingly designed by God to touch many, many people.  And because God works in infinite ways, what about those occasions when He calls us to act quickly, when not every new idea is a years-ahead preview?  Suddenly our constant prayer and study of the Bible become all the more important.  I want to know God all the while, before and during and after each new idea, asking Him to make my decisions His.  Lord, is this new idea from You?  Don’t let me get carried away with it simply out of my own enjoyment.  Keep me waiting till You deem the time best.  Lead my decisions.

The office

I met a man who worked in an office.  Nothing unusual, except for the fact that he worked in the office even on a day he designated for vacation.  He said he had nothing better to do. …  So I stopped to think.  How sad was his comment.  But is that me?  Am I ever uncomfortable with empty time?  Am I restless when things are unstructured?  How do I handle new circumstances?  Usually I can think of an endless list of fun things to do, yet I lack the time to do them all.  Honestly I love the ordinary day, and I generally view life as vibrant and exciting, especially when God throws me a creative curve I didn’t expect.  But I can recall days when I’ve opted for the road of familiarity.  One summer day, I didn’t want to exert the mental energy to learn some new guitar chords, so I played a familiar tune on the piano instead.  And I probably played it numerous times, hoping the guitar-playing idea that nagged my brain would leave by the time I finished at the piano.  On a different occasion, I remember debating whether to go talk to my new neighbor, erroneously entertaining the thought that if I went to talk once, I wouldn’t have the time and energy to check on her regularly, so why bother in the beginning.  And sometimes I’ve felt exhausted at the mere mention of planning a vacation, so consequently I’ve abandoned the whole notion and opted for staying at home.  So, yes, I am somewhat like my friend on the bus who spent his vacation working at his office.  Yet I know deep down that the Lord has given me wonderfully exciting experiences that came from stepping outside the norm and following through with what can feel humanly risky.  Christianity is not a life of laziness and selfish ways.  But if we find ourselves in those modes, God will forgive upon our asking.  And He will supply our courage to restart and bless us for having sought Him.

A prayer for protection

The seating arrangement became eerie.  I felt a hand squeeze my upper arm, and I turned toward the man on my right.  With his head tilted completely sideways and his chest leaning forward, his neck was twisted tightly to glare up at me.  His ogling eyes zoomed further in my direction, and I was soon uncomfortable.  His mouth was moving, and I assumed he wanted to say something, though I could hear only a scratchy sound.  Some kind of a high pitch filtered softly through his voice.  Looking at him, I shook my head to indicate I did not understand.  Then I returned my gaze to the front of the bus.  Yet the murmur of his voice continued, and I felt another nudge of his leg.  I had tried to ignore the first nudge, in hope that it was unintentional.   Now I looked at the man again, and the whole aura was becoming even more disconcerting.  His almost ethereal whisper pressed louder as he said, “Come on! You got to have 50 cents!”  I motioned with my hand and verbally emphasized “No” and likewise shook my head.  And silently I asked the Lord to protect me.  My eyes quickly scanned the bus for options.  Hardly a seat was vacant for moving away from the man, as we’d hosted an active turnstile of passengers.  The man's increasingly invasive ways seemed unending.  Finally, I walked up to ask the driver if my stop would be announced.  I didn’t want to make a mistake my first time on this route.  Turns out the driver was quite the conversationalist, lending me to stand near him till reaching my stop.  I figured God used the driver to deliver me.  …  Overall, my distinct impression was that Satan was messing with me.  For 4 years, God has used our city buses to connect me with people for His wonderful purposes.  What God uses for good, Satan can attempt to use for bad.  Here now I did not want the bad to dissuade me from fulfilling my call.  Subsequent to this particularly unfun incident, a different bus trip led me to the immense pleasure of telling someone about Jesus.  I do realize there may be a day when my bus trips cease.  But not this week.

The video puzzle

Stroll, or skip, or race?  What to do when a new idea hits?  Do we run like Jonah?  Very specifically, he told some sailors he was running from God.  Unlike Jonah, I haven't paid fare to board a ship to flee from the Lord, but I do remember feeling intimidated by the notion to write a book.  I can also remember resisting God’s call to direct a particular choir.  Yet the Lord has blessed me immensely.  And the Lord blessed Jonah in releasing him from the belly of a fish. . .  Months ago, a new thought entered my brain.  Make a video.  A video regarding Me and the Lord on the Bus.  But I don’t know how to make a video.  Don't know the particulars of recording and splicing audio and visual together.  Little did I know that yesterday would reveal some pieces of the video puzzle.  This morning, another puzzle piece appeared.  Now the joy is almost inexplicable, and I’m eager to recognize the next component.  I will continue to pray for guidance.  And I can leisurely stroll while knowing the Lord provides in the moment.  I can figuratively and literally frolic in enjoyment of the Lord’s simple pleasures.  And I will run with the Lord, knowing He wonderfully orchestrates the starting gates and finishing lines of our races.

Not too many Christians

“I need work,” she said.  One morning last week, bundled in layers from head to toe to keep warm, a lady commented as we waited for our buses.  I responded, “I’ve been in your spot.  When I have a problem, I ask God to provide.  He has supplied our family with money.”  She added, “You don’t meet too many Christians these days.” . . . Right there.  That comment.  There’s a person in this world who hasn’t recognized too many Christians lately. . . Ephesians 6:19-20 reminds me.  Ask the Lord to keep us alert to open windows for conversation.  With the lady last week, the Lord gave opportunity to talk about Him and His church.  And when the Lord orchestrates people, it’s exciting.

On the streets

“I was waving to my mom down there,” the girl told me, as she returned to our bench at the bus stop.  “My son is sick, and my mom is bringing him.  We’re headed to the hospital.” . . . We discussed her 5-year-old’s extended fever and lack of food and water.  She wasn’t frantic, but she knew her son’s body was very weak.  Here an opportunity to pray fell in my lap.  I was excited.  On a street corner near downtown, the Lord had orchestrated a meeting of two strangers who soon came to have prayer in common. . . . May the Lord thrill your heart to see His orchestration on the streets where you walk.